


Fragments

by ladyofstardvst



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Fluff, malcolm feeling LOVED and APPRECIATED
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 16:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofstardvst/pseuds/ladyofstardvst
Summary: Two weeks without work is a long time, but Malcolm knows you won't throw him to the wolves.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & Reader, Malcolm Bright x you
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	Fragments

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a while but here we are again :) hope you guys enjoy!!  
> (requests are always welcome via tumblr @ladyfstardvst)

Two weeks.

Two weeks lay before you, gift wrapped golden with a bow. It was placed graciously in your hands, unsuspecting, on a silver platter. It held nothing inside but the weight of the world sliding down, down, down your shoulders.

You watched it disappear from your life for a moment, then two, then three, watched it melt through the stone of your apartment balcony and fall four stories to the concrete below. You really lost it then, obscured from view as your mind grew lighter, grateful, maybe a little _smug_ , because you had done what Atlas had not.

There was a taste on your tongue, of what it was like to be a god in that sense, but you had no appetite for godly things.

“It sounds like a long time,” you said in the silence that grew, thick and heavy and hot. Even the cool January winds of New York couldn’t stifle the heat growing in this little bubble of the city. “And maybe it will be. But that doesn’t mean you won’t enjoy _some_ of it.”

Malcolm breathed a laugh next to you, and he was staring where his hand was entwined with yours draped on the railing before you. He paid no attention to the chill that lifted from the metal, becoming one with his skin. His eyes raised to behold the twilit sky, pale lilac and deepened plum swirled with rose colored clouds and vermilion smears. They stained the city in an inflamed pastel hue, and Malcolm knew you would refuse to go inside until it was dark.

It was impressionism brought to life, he noticed, and he would never have known the sky could be so beautiful if it wasn’t for you.

“Life imitates art,” you whispered on a terribly desperate, sleepless night many months, moons, lifetimes ago. “But you won’t ever notice the beauty it has to offer us if you don’t look up from a case file. Come up for air every once in a while.”

He remembered how you looked at him, smile personifying starlight and moonlight, voice honeyed and lazy with the remnants of sleep you had been able to scrape together. He remembered how your eyes were alight with wonder and full of life, full of adoration for him, and him alone, in that one, excruciating moment. He remembered how the brightest stars were half hidden by city light, the waxing moon by wispy clouds.

Malcolm would never forget how you named off artists who captured the essence of scenes very much like this one; how they could make something so very ordinary seem so breathtaking. It had been a lifesaver for you, you confided that night – learning to find the beauty above you. It was grounding. Something different to focus on.

He would never forget that night, because that was when Malcolm Bright knew you were here, and you didn’t scare easily.

_Breathe with me, Malcolm._ Those four words left your lips, and they struck him right in the heart, knocked the breath right out of his lungs.

You had the same look in your eyes now, all velvet and honey and steadfast. He could feel it, even with his gaze watching the skyline turn gracefully from lilac and rose to navy and endless.

A smile found a home upon Malcolm’s lips when he spoke, strong and constant and true, “That’s because I’m not alone.”

The heat began to lessen then, that chill New York wind finally sneaking in through the cracks and dismantled your bubble all together, brick by brick. A shiver crept up your spine, quick and ruthless. You moved closer to Malcolm, who still watched the sunlight dwindle to none. Your head rested on his shoulder.

“You were never alone, Malcolm.”

His arm wrapped around you then, pulled you closer and closer still. Your smile was all the warmth he needed, because it was brighter than any sun, any moon, any star, and _god_ , did he love you more than anything.


End file.
